Nightmares
by iknz
Summary: Mitchell's nightmares and how the others go about making him feel better.


He had nightmares, almost every night. Sometimes, he would cry out, mercifully waking himself, sparing himself from further torment. More often though, he would be unable to wake himself, spending a seemingly endless time trapped in the darkness.

Tonight, like any other, he faced his shadows.

He saw- things. He saw dozens of different ways of himself getting killed. He saw, as he always had, his victims. But hardly ever the same one twice in a few months. Christ, were there that many?

He dreamt about blood, about feeding again, about the constant hunger being satisfied. That's how Carl said it had started. For Mitchell, it never ended.

But more than anything, _anything else, _he saw-no, he felt- loss. He saw George, Annie, and Nina now too, getting taken from him. And it _hurt._ It was painful, he was left alone again, no reason to stay clean. But it was more than that, they were more than his _reason_, they were his friends, his family even. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to them because of him.

Like so many nights before, he called out as he woke.

He was covered in sweat, and tangled in his thin sheets. He fought to free himself, and jumped up from his bed as if he could physically distance himself from the nightmares.

His room was hot. He was suffocating. He threw open the window in a feeble attempt to chase his fears away. It wasn't enough. He turned on his heel and ran from his room.

He didn't know where he was heading, but he ended up just a couple steps down from the top. It was cold, quiet when his head fell into his hands. It was what he needed. It probably wouldn't last though.

It didn't. He wasn't sure how much noise he'd made, but it must have been a lot. Lights turned on, almost simultaneously, from the top and bottom of the stairs.

"Mitchell? Are you all right?" George called from above him. If he had been looking, he would have seen George exchange a worried glance with Annie, but he refused to look up.

He knew though that he would have to reply eventually, and sooner rather than later. He took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet.

"Yeah, I'm fine George. Nothing to worry about." His voice was hoarse, and he could tell immediately that George didn't buy it.

"Seriously Mitchell? Look at you,you're clearly not fine. Come on, downstairs, now." Georges tone left no room for argument and Mitchell had no fight left in him, so he did as George said. On the way down, Annie took his hand in hers and led him to the living room and sat him down on the sofa before making her way to the kitchen.

George and Nina sat opposite him on the other sofa and they sat in silence for a while. Annie returned from the kitchen carrying tea for the houses three living occupants and sat next to Mitchell. As he took his tea, she saw that his hands were shaking, and glanced at the others anxiously.

Mitchell downed his tea, undoubtedly burning his mouth and throat, and placed his mug on the table. He immediately returned to staring at his hands.

"Mitchell, what's wrong? And don't say its nothing, because it clearly isn't." George asked quietly.

"Nightmares, George, just nightmares. Everyone has bad dreams." He replied confidently, but his voice was shaking.

"Not _every night." _Nina put in.

"I'm an 117 year old mass-murderer, Nina, what do you expect? Whether I'm awake or asleep, I can't escape what I've done, and that terrifies me."

"Mitchell? Do you want to talk about it? It might help?"

"I can't George, you wouldn't understand. Anyway, nothing can _help _this"

"You don't know what I'll understand. We're more alike than you think."

"You don't know how happy I am knowing that's not true" Mitchell murmured. Then louder "Why don't you two go to bed?"

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea" Nina said, feeling the tension rising between the two men. Although she would never say so to Mitchell, he was right: She was glad that George wasn't as alike to the vampire as he thought.

"Fine with me." George huffed. He said goodnight to the others and went upstairs. Nina shot the others an apologetic glance and followed him up.

"You not going to bed too Mitchell?" Annie asked. Mitchell shook his head.

"I'm not sure I can face that again tonight. Anyway, I'm not working tomorrow and I'm not tired."

Annie didn't reply. She knew he was probably lying about being tired but she didn't care. His lie became more obvious when she moved closer to him and he started to drift off in her arms. It was such a cliché, but it was true: He looked younger when he slept. It made a sad sort of sense really.

Usually, Annie spent her nights waiting for the others to get up. Perhaps this night wouldn't be so long after all...

* * *

When he woke, Mitchell felt more rested than he had in a long time. He was on the sofa, wrapped in Annie's arms. He looked up at Annie's face to see her already looking down at him.

"Hey, you." She said. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah..." He replied slowly.

"No nightmares?"

"No... None, actually." He laughed. Quickly his face became serious again, though, and he looked up at Annie again. "God, you're beautiful."

"Mitchell..." Annie protested, tilting her head towards the other sofa. Mitchell looked over to see George and Nina smirking at them.

"What?" He asked teasingly. "Isn't George allowed to hear the truth?"

"Mitchell, shut up!" She laughed.

"Make me!" He grinned at her.

"Okay..." She replied, kissing him before he could move away from her. He wasn't expecting that, and she laughed at his face when she pulled away. He didn't know what to say, she certainly had shut him up.

As she got up to go make tea she saw George and Nina were giggling too and grinned at them on her way to the kitchen. Mitchell watched her go then turned his attention back to the others. George raised his eyebrows at him.

"What?" Mitchell asked suspiciously.

"I think we've found your 'help'."

"No? Seriously?" He demanded.

"No what?" Annie asked as she walked back in the room.

"George is suggesting that you sleep in my bed..." He answered awkwardly.

"Umm, why?" She asked George.

"You saw him last night Annie, he slept well. He said so himself, he had no nightmares. Why not?"

"Okay." She said. At Mitchell's confused face she continued. "You have to admit, he's got a point. Anyway, why are so against it?"

"I'm not against it Annie, I just didn't want you to feel like you had to. If you want to, then sure, why not."

* * *

So, from then on, she did. And the nightmares stopped. Mostly.

* * *

**This is just something I wrote in my spare time over a couple of days. It was only meant to be one chapter, but I though it could have more, so please review and tell me what you think. Much appreciated. **


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